Officer Down
by smallC
Summary: A wounded Ross is taken hostage and must deal with his dilemma and detectives... This was written as a protest to USA network's decision to not only drop 3 characters, but kill one off. It's so...final. In my TV world, Danny gets to tell his boys....
1. Chapter 1

_What the fuck was that?!_ A moment ago, he had been sitting behind his desk, sweating in shirtsleeves, swearing at the inadequate air conditioning. His eye had caught the kid moving towards his office and he had stood to get a better look.

There had been an explosion……

He was now lying awkwardly on his back, behind his desk. His ears were ringing and his head hurt. In fact, many things hurt.

His shirt was sticking to him as if wet and he reached a hand down to investigate. The touch of his fingers set in motion a burning that spread across his stomach. The wetness was warm, and he recognized the smell of blood. A wave of nausea rose in his throat.

"I want my brother, now!!" Had the kid screamed the words or was it just that all of his nerves were screaming? He saw a gun pointed at his head, saw that the kid was actually a group of kids, all with guns, pointed at his head. Was that real, or was he hallucinating?

He tried to speak, but no sound came out. Instead, something wet dribbled down his chin. Warm. He knew the taste. The same stuff as on his shirt. _Oh fuck……_


	2. Chapter 2

So this is what it was like. He had wondered, like most cops. He could hear yelling and phones ringing but they seemed off in the distance and were nearly drowned out by the sound of his heart pounding in his head.

He was panting, which hurt, and he tried to consciously slow his breathing. Slow. Calm. Regain control. He closed his eyes against the bright fluorescent lights above his desk. He had complained about the dim light in his office last week and the lights had been changed. Bad move. He felt the lump of his service revolver in his ribs. He should try to get it. His arms wouldn't respond to his command.

"Wake up, cop."

He looked up into the muzzle of the gun that had shot him and the kid that held it.

"'It won't work." A hoarse whisper.

"Shut up!" The kid bent over him and pulled his revolver from its holster. Leveled both guns at him. Smiled. Touched both barrels to his face. "Hurting yet, cop? Scared?"

The metal of the guns was cold against his cheek. He tried to stop the shudder that ran down his spine, without success.

"Killing your hostage is a bad move." Zach Nichol's voice. Cool and confident. "Let me tend to him – you'll need him if you want your brother freed."

It seemed like hours until the kid sat back. He turned to Nichols. "Do your nursing. I'll be right here." The kid moved away, out of his sight.

Zach's form blocked the light from his eyes. "Danny. Try to relax while I check this out." His face showed concern as he pulled open his tie and eased his dress shirt and t-shirt away from the wound. "How you doing?"

"Not great."

"Where's it worst?"

"Everywhere. Breathing. How bad is it?"

"Hard to tell. Small caliber. I'll need to get some packing on it. You need to lie still, okay? Try to take shallow breaths."

He nodded. He didn't know how still he could be if this got much worse.

"Say, how's your ankle feel?" A question about the small revolver that he had carried in an ankle holster when he had partnered with Zach. It had come in handy at times in those days. But when he had attained the captaincy, he had ended the practice. Bad move number two.

_Three strikes and I'm out._ "Sorry."

"Just a thought." A slight smile. "So -- you're a hostage. Congratulations. Remember that kid we arrested that was trying to rob people at the ATMs? He's still in holding because of the delay in arraignment times, the A/C problem. Our shooter is his big brother. The other kids are cousins or something, a family thing. They want to break the kid out -- swap him for you. But don't worry, we're on it. Goren's in charge and working on the exchange."

"What?!"

"Relax," He felt hands on both shoulders. "I would've picked me too, but Goren got the vote. I think Eames voted twice."

"No exchange --" The force of his words made him cough and a froth of blood followed. He closed his eyes and tried to take a deep breath and grimaced in pain. He was shivering, and tried to still it, but could not.

Zach stopped the hand that was coming up to wipe the blood from his chin. "Christ, Danny! You've been shot in the stomach. You have to lie still, reserve strength. It's okay to bleed." He blotted the blood with a handkerchief. "We won't leave you in here alone. We can handle this. Everyone's been called. Bobby's doing the right things, trust me. Trust _us_." He put the back of his hand to Ross' cheek. "Sorry it's so hot in here. You look like hell."


	3. Chapter 3

He must have drifted off. But awoke with a start as a hand closed around his throat. _Christ! It was Goren! He's __with__ them, he's choking me!!_

"Sorry, sir. I need to get your pulse. Dr. Rodgers is out in the squad room and she wants me to monitor some things and try to get you more comfortable."

He hoped Goren, of all people, didn't see the look on his face when he said Liz' name. Why couldn't _she_ come in here to do this?

Worse, why hadn't he told her the evening before how great she had looked? And how he felt about her? Because there would be another time……wouldn't there?

"Liz –"

"Shhh. You should try to stay quiet. They won't let her come in here. She's tried – she's _not_ happy." He thought he saw the slightest smile on Goren's face, but it was not a mocking smile. It was an….understanding smile.

"I'm gonna move you a bit here, lift you more upright. Dr. Rogers said it would help you breathe a little easier."

Before he could comment, the detective reached to take him under the arms. Ross closed his eyes and steeled himself for pain. Maybe he could throw up on Goren, _that _would help the situation.

Wow. Not bad. The detective was gentle for a big man.

Goren smiled. "Boy scout training. This feels okay?"

He nodded slightly.

"We're working on an exchange for you. We're getting there, but we need you to hold tough here a bit longer."

"No exchange –"

Goren put his finger to his own lips to indicate quiet. "I know what to do, Sir. Trust me."

What scared Ross is that he did.

From this new spot, he could see his assailant. He was sitting on his desk, again pointing the two guns at him. For some reason, this didn't bother him. He actually felt rather….calm. Was it was due to ….Goren? He felt safe because of Goren? But he couldn't deny it – the big man's presence was comforting.

Was this was dying was like? That you saw only the good side of things? Or was he just losing his mind?


	4. Chapter 4

The woman was faceless, but beautiful. He was filled with an intoxicating fragrance and wanted to get closer to the woman, for more. When he tried to draw in more, she touched him. A touch that was fire. But he couldn't help but want more. Pleasure. Pain. Stop. Don't stop.

He was jolted awake by a deep painful breath. Every muscle in his stomach was cramping. A hand was squeezing his.

"Easy, Captain. You must have been dreaming."

Eames. Her face was soft, her brow wrinkled with concern. The eyes that had looked at him so often in anger and distaste were now filled with compassion.

God, she looked pretty. And the fragrance – it was her. He had never been so close to her before, never noticed.

He had read somewhere that all of your senses heightened when you were dying ….

She held a towel soaked with cold water and touched it to his face and neck gently. He managed a weak smile. Eames as Florence Nightingale.

"Slow and shallow breaths. You're doing okay, just hang in there for us. Bobby's working on things."

"Eames." He should tell her – something. That he had been wrong about her, about Goren?

"Shhhh. Your job is to rest. We'll take care of you."

He closed his eyes and let himself drift back…..


	5. Chapter 5

The yelling woke him. Goren and Nichols. It seemed to be coming from the squad room. And the kid with the gun – he was gone. Was that good?

What was Wheeler doing, rifling through his desk drawers?

She turned and saw that he was awake. "Is there a gun in here, anything?

"Bottom drawer, right." The words hurt, a lot. He again felt the blood rise in his throat.

Wheeler froze at the sound of breaking glass as a bullet shattered the office door. He felt her body across his, trying to protect him.

"Get up!" A second shot, above their heads. The kid was back.

He stood over them. "Get. Up."

"Wheeler –" She leaned back, hands still on his shoulders. He nodded slightly and she frowned. She stood and turned, still shielding him.

"You need him." Her voice was soft but steady.

"What were you looking for, honey?"

"A gun. But there isn't one."

"Too bad – go back to your man. He isn't lookin' too good. You guys better stop fuckin' around --" He climbed back to his perch on the desk.

She quickly bent back down over Ross, checking him over, professional mode. The cold towel to his face and neck and chest. She wouldn't meet his eyes.

Wheeler. His protégé, his girl – she would kill him for that word. He had had reservations about bringing her with him to Major Case, but it had been right. He had watched her grow from a quiet freckled faced rookie into a thoughtful, strong -- and beautiful -- detective. She had been a foil to Mike Logan and was now a counterbalance for Zach. But at this moment he wished that she were an ambulance attendant because he was starting to feel really bad.

"Goren's plan failed?"

She looked up. Non-professional mode.

"Megan --"

"You shouldn't talk. We're working on it."

He nodded. He felt terrible. Like he was going to lose control of his body. Like he was floating. Like he would burst. Like he was dying. He again tried to calm himself, against the rising surge of anxiety.

And his mind was now racing. Last week he had yelled at his son Jeremy for not looking into college applications. Had they made amends? He hadn't called back his ex Nancy about plans for his youngest's bar mitzvah. Who would give the father's speech at that??! Not his damned stepfather!

Would Nancy cry?

He needed to talk. "My throat – water, a little."

She frowned but rewet the towel and held it to his mouth, squeezing gently. He nodded his thanks.

"Captain." He looked at her, smiling slightly that she called him that. "You need to stay strong. We'll get you out of here."

"I'm just tired." He was still a moment. Really tired. Too tired. Maybe it would be easy. He would just close his eyes. Fall asleep. While this was not his fantasy of going out in a heroic blaze of glory, at least he was with someone who gave a damn about him.

"Stay with me, Captain."

"I'm proud of you." The words brought tears to her eyes. Christ, that wasn't what he wanted.

"I had a great teacher." A sad smile. A squeeze of his hand.

"My boys – tell them –"

"I will. _You_ will."

"I'm so tired."

"Danny –"

He felt her hand in his, squeezing hard. Her fingers on his cheek. Then no more.


End file.
